Shades of Gray
by Kyrii
Summary: Robin and Amon are on the run in Europe, but is Solomon really their only concern?
1. Default Chapter

Nyar, Witch Hunter Robin. This is the beginning of a fic that I wrote, hated, left on my computer for a while, and then suddenly opened and re-vamped. I've been kicking plot bunnies around for a while (months), and I seem to have found one that actually sits well with me. The skeleton of this story worked well, so I tweaked it to be the beginning. Read and tell me what you think; I have ideas for upcoming chapters, but I have no idea when I'll be able to write them. So, updates won't be very timely ; It's set post-series, so it's bound to have some spoilers in it. Anyway, I'll stop blabbing now, read on.

EDIT: Er, I've done some editing. I've fixed some paragraphs that made little to no sense, added the elusive transitions, and I believe I've made an attempt at euthanizing some of the run-ons. I'd like to thank a couple reviewers for pointing out the fact that I was high on crack when I wrote this. It was actually 2 AM, and of course all of my writing made sense THEN. Did it make sense the next day? Not really. My sleep-deprived mind apologizes for not properly editing. ; If something else doesn't seem to work, or I've made another stupid mistake, tell me so I may correct it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Witch Hunter Robin or any of its affiliates. It would be cool if I did, but this is just fanfiction, I do not profit from this so...monkeys.

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The lights rushed by her, zooming, flashing. So fast her eyes blurred and her hands shook. She turned quickly, her skirts flying around her small frame, her gloves flying up in a natural defensive movement. Everything was flying towards her and,

"Robin!"

"Hai!" She jolted awake, confused for a moment, eyes wide, breathing fast, as she watched the cool façade of Amon hovering over her on the shabby motel couch.

She sighed, memories flooding back to her as the dim light from the adjacent room brought her senses into relative focus. Robin squinted her eyes shut against it and looked up at Amon tiredly. She felt the pounding of her head, and the weight of every limb hanging uselessly from her body. She glanced at the clock and groaned; she had only been asleep half an hour. Rolling over to glare menacingly at Amon she watched as he hovered above her. His sable eyes turned to little slits as he waited for her to respond to his presence in a more cognizant manner.

It was so very Amon; he had been flitting about her for days now, and as much as she knew it made sense, she was annoyed that he had not let her sleep. His gaze was always the same cold scrutiny, and Robin wanted to curl into herself and scream at his apathetic watchfulness.

Robin's own eyes narrowed into similar slits as she took in the appearance of her warden. His black shirt clung to him in a way that made it look cleanly pressed. She knew they hadn't done any laundry in quite some time and it annoyed her that he always managed to look refreshed and presentable.

Amon continued to stare and Robin finally relented, waving her arm at him in acknowledgement. She then pushed herself into a sitting position and seemingly satisfied, Amon turned away from her and strode back into the adjoining room, hard boots thudding heavily on the plush, clean white carpet that blanketed the entire suite like an ocean of fluff.

She knew he only endeavored to help but his efforts were succeeding in backfiring. Her body ached beyond anything she'd ever felt from a witch hunt. Robin's mind strayed to her evenings of contemplation at Harry's as she thought longingly of the small cups of steaming espresso that Master had served to her so fondly. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she scrunched her eyes again and glanced at his retreating form. She knew they would be moving soon.

Straightening her back and pushing herself from the soft couch, Robin rubbed sleepily at her eyes as she followed after him, desperately trying to smooth away the dark circles that had been lingering like a bad dream for days now. Reaching the door, left slightly ajar (Amon's way of requesting her entrance), Robin leaned herself against the frame heavily.

"Amon," she breathed, her voice heavy and laced with fatigue, sounding almost rough to her own ears.

"You were yelling in your sleep, it would have caused commotion." Amon paused for a moment, shuffling with something on the desk by his bed. "Be prepared to leave soon."

She stood there and looked at him for a while, finally, blinking and with a last questioning glance, Robin turned away. He hadn't even bothered to turn around, and Robin believed that Amon's back had said all it had to say to her for the time being.

Shuffling back into the main room Robin couldn't help but clench her small fists in agitation. She was usually a very accommodating person. She wasn't ever partial about where she was placed, or what the schedule of her day included, but sleep was something that she had held almost sacred. It was one of the few things that she actually allowed herself to lift above all others in importance. Right now her perception of rest was being skewed, squished, and stamped upon by the mighty foot of Amon. Sleep was no longer enjoyable, but merely something that the two of them resorted to when their bodies failed them, or when Robin absolutely _insisted_.

Robin dropped back onto the couch with a huff, her eyes already starting to close. He had not forbade her from sleeping, but another outburst could cost them dearly. Consequences that she knew neither of them had the faculties at that moment to avoid.

Along with a constant state of fatigue Amon had gifted Robin with a growing sense of paranoia. It was hard to remain optimistic when the only human in contact with you was convinced that everyone was out to kill you. Robin had given up fighting his paranoid beliefs long ago. As it was now, he was probably right most of the time, so Robin didn't see why she should waste the little energy she had in fighting something meant for her own benefit.

Fighting to keep her eyes open, Robin rolled onto her back and stayed poised, clenching her muscles to try and keep the energy from seeping out of her body into the couch. The sensation was very much like trying to fruitlessly keep oil in a leaking car. A broken car, that's all she really was anymore. She couldn't summon the energy to assist Amon in near anything, never mind trying to fend off the influence of some of his ridiculous beliefs.

Absolutely worthless.

She had left all the planning to Amon. She never complained about their frequent country hopping, or their place of board. Her body and mind were spent, and Robin really didn't wish to plan anymore of this incessant hiding. But what type of creature was she, if she couldn't even extract the energy to turn the gears of her own mind?

Robin flung an arm over her eyes, her own annoyance with herself keeping her awake, for now. Letting out a little breath Robin moved her arm an inch, glancing upward. The stucco ceiling was white, and the oblivion looked inviting to Robin's tired body, her eyes welcoming the soothing comfort the monotone shades of color offered. It was a poor substitute for the backs of her eye lids, but it would have to do for now. Keeping herself distracted seemed a chore to her now; no longer having the energy to find something engaging enough to tear her from her tired body for even a moment. The room was bland, and she had already used up what interest could be drawn from the lamp, the television, and even the couch patterns; it was all too much of a complicated blur.

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Night had finally fallen, and Robin and Amon were moving again. They stayed close to the wall, avoiding the searching glare of the street lights; friendly to a passerby, but a foreboding omen to be cast into for the two of them. The glare was bright, too bright, and the semblance of daylight was almost harshly sickening. Making sure to steer clear, they continued on. Their twin sets of black boots scuffing against the gray sidewalk that led into the distance.

It seemed as though they had trekked like that for days, stopping to rest but not really resting, merely waiting for night to begin anew. Robin dragged her feet, struggling to keep up with Amon's almost relentless pace. He never seemed to tire, his long legs holding stores of infinitesimal energy. Robin envied them as she watched their fluid movements, and she cursed her own body as the strings tying her legs to Amon's pulled tightly in her muscles once again.

She stayed close to his back, content to walk in his shadow and watch the black lines of his long coat shift beneath her gaze. The broad expanse of his back fascinated her, and she found herself attempting to visualize the hard muscle she knew lay underneath his concealing coat. Catching her train of thought Robin shook her head as she felt her cheeks twinge pink. It wasn't appropriate to envision Amon in such a way! Had Amon been able to see inside her head she doubted he would have liked _that_ particular thought. Even so, it was at least enough of a distraction to keep her eyes from drooping and her body from stopping, yet still not quite enough to keep the tired wisps that were creeping up her spine tamped down firmly enough for her liking.

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They were so close, one more jump, and she could rest, sink into sweet wonderful oblivion. She would be able to rest her aching body and soothe the creaks from her joints. She glanced up blurrily to the back of Amon's head, watching his head bob with the continued movement of the same stubborn perseverance that seemed to keep both of them trekking. His long black hair swayed rhythmically and it renewed her strength to see his long body in motion. Robin knew Amon was strong, and as she closed her eyes she could almost feel some of that strength seep into her. Even in her state of mindless fatigue, the feeling of Amon in close proximity was not an unpleasant sensation to have. The time of his steps kept the beat in her body, and the blood pumping in her veins. She glanced up at him with something near awe, shaking her head as it fell back down to slump against her collar bone, the emotion too heavy to convey.

Having turned her head back to less interesting things, like the pavement, Robin didn't notice the small, quick glance Amon threw over his shoulder. She didn't see the cold sheen of his eyes soften, didn't see him hold her steady with his piercing orbs, and didn't see him turn, just as quickly, to resume his concentration on their travel.

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The cargo hold was dark, and dank, and cramped; but to Robin, it was the best thing she had seen all week. It had taken them four days to reach a port out of Russia, and even longer while they carefully bided their time, waiting for the proper ship. Amon had, with faithful stubbornness, kept their travels quick, their movements hurried, their sleep non-existent, and all Robin wanted to do at that moment was fall to the cold hard floor and pretend she was in a soft white bed back in the monastery. She could almost smell the warm scent of the native flowers drifting in through the window in her old room; almost feel the warm hand of the Tuscan sun tickling her senses. With that happy visual tantalizing her mind, she let the twinge of a smile grace her lips as she stood diligently in the middle of the hold, watching Amon systematically check their surroundings and finally close the door. Finally, Robin allowed the wonderful incomprehensible silence to take her. She could rest here, Amon would keep watch, she knew, but she still couldn't push away the sudden fear that Solomon agents would suddenly drop from the high ceilings on belay, guns at the ready, surrounding and subduing them in seconds. Robin squinted in Amon's direction. It seemed that she had been right in believing that his paranoia was rubbing off.

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Having shut the door to the cargo hold Amon let out a sigh that seemed to have been bottled tight in his chest since they had entered Russia a week ago. The plan to move them here had been a disaster. The political climate in Russia was far from benign, and the social atmosphere was almost dangerous. The inhabitants of this country seemed to be coiled tight enough to break at the drop of a pin. Of course, this mentality suited Amon's current mental placement so he thought they'd blended in rather nicely. Of course once he thought they may have been able to consider staying for a while, it had, as it usually did, gone to hell. Not wishing to spend valuable rest time reminiscing about what could not be changed Amon settled himself against an odd-shaped piece of ship. He blinked sleepily once, taking an interest in the crinkles of his coat before he snapped himself back to attention and diligently turned to check on Robin. She was in his care now, more so than before, and Amon had been careful to remind himself of the stakes of their departure every time he happened a glance at her. He knew leaving Russia would be difficult for her. She seemed to have less and less energy every time he announced that it was time to go, time to move, time to leave more pieces of themselves behind.

Robin was falling apart at the seams. Amon had kept her awake most of the time, and it seemed to be taking its toll. Robin greeted every new place with less and less enthusiasm. If he kept quiet for several hours, with all the lights off, he would occasionally hear her sniffle. She was trying to keep it well hidden, but even Amon could plainly see that their running was destroying her inside.

Keeping his gaze fixed on her Amon took in her appearance. She was slumped, her small form leaning against some crates near the back wall. He could almost make out the waves of her clothing, wrapped around her and hanging limply as if they had lost all will to flow. His brow creased and he moved to where she sat, bending to her level to get a look at her face. His heart began to thud faster in his chest as images of ways that Robin could have been hurt began to flick through his brain. Attempting to stutter those thoughts Amon drew his mouth into a thin line and opened his eyes wide for a moment as he tried to get a better view of her through the darkness. Her head was lolling away from him at an odd angle and he could hear the small labored puff of her breath; but even so, he cautiously brought his hand to her face. Placing a gloved finger under her chin, he tilted her head carefully, her wisps of dirty blonde hair falling limply to the side as he did so. He breathed a little huff and he felt his chest un-clench, his facial features relax as he gazed down at her. Her eyes were closed and she looked almost serene; not a trace of pain or discomfort written on her features. Robin was merely asleep. Amon shook his head, berating himself for his poor treatment of her. She had been walking around like a Zombie for days now. The trek to the ship must have sapped her last reserves. He had succeeded in keeping them from harm's way once again, but how much of her was he actually preserving with his method of survival?

Amon gently placed her head back to the side, cupping her cheek to keep from disturbing her. Almost subconsciously, he let his hand linger there for a moment, fleetingly wishing that he could feel the softness of her skin and cursing his rough black gloves. Coming to his senses Amon started, and began to pull away, trying to push the feelings from his mind, but found his hand tucking a small stray golden lock away from her eyes before he was finally once again in control. Shaking his head as if to clear it, Amon retreated to his own corner, pushing the thought of Robin's face away from him for the time being. Settling down he finally allowed his eyes to close and his body to submit to slumber.

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Amon jerked quickly awake, glancing hurriedly at his watch. His momentary panic quelling as the bold green numbers told him he'd only been asleep for a few hours. Good, there was still plenty of time. A cold chill had swept through the chamber and Amon shivered. Then, eyes turning, he glanced over at Robin. She had slumped a bit more in the past hours, but still appeared to be held tightly by the clutches of sleep. His features softened as he looked at her. Robin, little Robin. She seemed smaller, curled around herself, leaning against the large, monotonous brown crates. Gazing at her in her vulnerable state Amon felt that he could finally see her fifteen years poking through the many others that had been piled atop her. They graced her features in sleep, and he could almost see the child buried deep within her, little Robin; almost. Her brow was furrowed, and whatever child showed through at that moment was deeply troubled.

He watched as a quick little shiver ran through her body, and she whimpered as she pushed against the hard coarseness of the crate that was her pillow. Eyes softening towards her again Amon walked silently over, the sudden wave of guilt from his earlier thoughts suddenly compelling him to cater to her apparent need for warmth. He removed his coat and placed it on the floor. Then, with movements as slow and gentle as he could muster, moved her small body onto it. He splayed his hand against her back and steadied her shoulder with his other as he moved her to lie. He could feel her petite frame through the layers of clothing that were her norm, and almost flinched as he felt skin and bone. Robin was far too thin, almost dangerously thin. Amon's guilt continued to chew away at him as he remembered a specific instance from several weeks earlier.

They had stopped for a well needed rest at a motel in England, and Amon had left Robin to sleep as he went out to get supplies. He had been rationing the food, not knowing how long he would need to conserve funds. Not being a heavy eater anyway, Amon wasn't really affected. He had noticed that his clothing was a bit looser, but then again, hunger was the least of his worries at that present moment. Upon returning with his small bag of supplies Amon noticed the light was on in the bathroom. Setting down the bag, Amon walked toward it, thinking Robin still asleep and meaning to merely switch it off. Inside he was surprised to find her standing before a mirror, clad only in sleeping pants and a bra. She hadn't even noticed him come in, and Amon intended to keep it that way lest they both find themselves in an awkward situation. Even so, before turning away, Amon couldn't help but notice her reflection in the mirror. The bags under her eyes were pronounced, but what frightened him even more was the way the skin on her ribs seemed to sink in towards the bone in a way that didn't seem very natural. He had retreated to the door, careful to make lots of noise,'re-entering' their room, giving Robin enough time to make herself decent.

He'd been trying to feed her more ever since that incident, but Robin didn't seem to want to eat. Her sapped will was affecting every part of her, and Amon was beginning to worry.

Amon sighed, wrapping the turns of his coat carefully around her, bunching the sleeve to make a pillow for her. She rested her head against it as he placed it down cautiously. Robin sighed as she shifted in sleep, immediately responding and curling into Amon's offered warmth.

Amon stood away from her, too many thoughts buzzing through his mind. He watched the cargo hold stoically, letting the cold brace him, and wipe away the last traces of his fatigue. Crossing his arms over his chest, he watched from his place leaning on the wall, as Robin nuzzled her face into his coat, for now seemingly content.

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Ok, chapter one. Next time I write something, I'll try to be awake and or caffeinated.


	2. Now Is The Time

Ok, ok. So I suck at this whole timely chapter crap thing. But here we go again. Guess what time it is! It's shame time! I mean, late at night…time. That means I'm writing, which means, oh hell. Here you go, Chapter Two.

Oh, and also, I am entering this in the Mini NaNoMo writing thinger over at Harry's.

Disclaimer: YES. I AM THE PROUD OWNER OF WHICH HUNTER ROBIN. HA. HA. HA.

_Under the fog fog fog  
And I will leave them all  
Well I'm just a poor little baby  
Cause well I believe them all_

Oh so while you're growing old  
Under the gun gun gun  
And I believe them all  
Well I'm just one poor baby  
Cause well I believe them all

_-Y Control, Yeah Yeah Yeahs_

_Ping, ping, ping._ Robin raised her head groggily with a grunt. _Ping, ping, ping._ Looking around sleepily she sought whatever it was that had so annoyingly awakened her from her thankfully dreamless sleep.

Her eyes began to adjust in the almost all-consuming darkness, picking up shapes and forms; a rope, a crate, a metal ladder affixed solidly to the wall. She glanced up. _Ping, ping, ping._ Sighing, she realized where she was and what had so rudely awakened her. It was pouring. Not that she was wet, or even normally bothered by rain, but it was still raining nonetheless. The little metallic pings seemed to surround her as they bounced off the hull of the ship, creating an odd acoustic resonance. Under normal circumstances she might have found it calming. Not today. She was still exhausted, and from the aches that still remained in her muscles—and one particularly uncomfortable crick in her neck, she wasn't sure if she had slept hours or minutes.

With a very un Robin-like 'hoof' she flopped back down to the floor of the ship, finding herself lying on something soft, that smelled good—glancing down in surprise she suddenly realized that she was resting on Amon's coat. 'No wonder it smelled good.' Her brain rattled at her, causing her cheeks to darken. She hadn't remembered requesting his coat, or even remembered lying down on it. Amon, where was Amon? She hadn't seen him in her initial sleepy perusal of the storage compartment that they were currently squatting in.

Forgetting the relative warmth of Amon's coat Robin pushed herself up, abandoning the coat in search of its owner. The pings of rain continued to ricochet off the insides of her pounding head as she wearily searched about the compartment. She looked behind boxes, crates, and other ship cargo; without her gloves they were all scratchy surfaces and hard angles. Not pleasing at all to touch. Shifting her hands over a rough box she felt a sharp pain, looking down and realizing she had drawn blood across her knuckles. Robin sighed, she wasn't usually clumsy.

The compartment was so dark and her eyes hadn't properly adjusted at all. She stopped for a moment—straining her eyes into the blackness, only to see the same blurred shapes she'd been staring at for the few minutes that she'd been awake. They blended together, forming an ugly black ominous thing, looming over her and consuming her.

"Amon…" Her own shaky voice surprised her, the desperation with which she had uttered the word starting to crawl from her voice box into her brain. She felt panic rising in her throat, lodging itself there as all the possible ways that he could have left the ship zipped through her head, lightning fast. "Amon." There it was again, that hopelessness, the despair. Apparently her brain had become very dependant, addicted, without her knowledge.

A sharp, sudden rustling to her left caused her to jump. "Robin." Her heart sank back to its normal position in her chest, and the clog in her throat left, soothed away by the gruff caress of his voice. "Are you hungry? I brought some food onto the ship with me." Food, ugh. Her stomach growled, a sign that probably signaled to Amon that she was indeed hungry. She probably would want food about now, if she could even remember what actually wanting to eat felt like. The growling of her stomach ceased, leaving her only with a painful curling in her gut, too painful to think about putting food into.

"No, I'm not hungry."

"Robin, you should—"

"Amon, no. I'm fine." She sat down, suddenly exhausted. She looked up into the looming black shape of her warden, comforted by his presence, for the moment.

……….

Amon sat down across from her, watching as her eyelids slowly closed, her head slumping against the crate she was resting against. His own eyes drifted down to where her hands were curled in her lap. His eyebrows raised, her knuckles were scratched and slightly bloody. When had that? The worry that had begin to sink it's icy claws into him pushed harder, as it had seemed to be doing every time he saw her now. She was looking worse and worse by the day. She was exhausted, probably sick, and too thin. Considering their present lives this shouldn't have surprised him, but it did, because this was Robin. Robin, who had been through so much already in her young life, Robin who had taken everything thrown at her and swallowed it without complaint, always persevering and surviving. Had she swallowed too much, had running away from her life, totally and completely for the second time been too much? Or, was something else eating at her soul?

For the first time in his life, Amon wished he had a craft. If he could only see into her small blonde head, even for just a moment, if he could just see what was eating her from the inside out, maybe he could stop being such a useless warden and start _doing_ something for her. She wasn't a victim, so why was she acting like one?

_God, what was he doing to her?_

…………

Sleeping was nice, so nice; so quiet and peaceful. Waking however, was as usual, another story all together. She blinked her eyes, feeling restless, and useless. She felt like her skin was crawling—not because she felt dirty, oh she was dirty, she hadn't bathed in days, which bothered her in its own right, but this was something different. Nothing felt in place, her hands itched; her brain was working at a million miles and hour. Whimpering, and not knowing what else to do she laid herself down, pressing her eyes as tightly closed as she could.

What could she do? She was only one woman—one girl, one young, naïve, girl. What if they never made it, what if they were caught, killed. Amon, oh God Amon, if anything happened to him she would. She felt tears start to sting at her eyes. If she could just crawl out of this life—no she couldn't do that, never do that.

She was a wreck and she knew it. At least at Nagira's she had had some semblance of a home to come back to at night. A strange, raised bed, but a bed nonetheless. She had slept, and had dreams, horrible, tortured dreams, but she had slept.

An outcast, that was what she was. A child not allowed to live in this world, a small girl, running, hiding, hiding with a man who didn't care. It was just too much. She didn't want this, didn't ask for this, so why was she getting it?

So overwhelming.

So tired.

Her hands rubbed against one another in the dark, opening the freshly scabbed over cuts on her knuckles.

……...

The cargo hold opened, and Amon watched warily from behind a crate as muscled, gloved workers began to remove the contents of the ship, slowly, piece by piece. He glanced back at Robin, who was staring into space, eyes half-lidded. She swayed once, and he put his hand on her shoulder, steadying her gently, his eyes meeting hers with a strange force. She blinked at him, her eyes holding his for a moment before returning to their half-lidded, glazed state.

He was taking her to a doctor. He didn't care if it put them in danger. Right now, it was more dangerous for her to remain in the state that she was in, than to take her somewhere to recover. He had already sketched out the e-mail he would send to Nagira in his head, now the only question was of finding a terminal to send his message from. They were in Barcelona, and having never visited the city in his life, Amon hadn't the slightest inkling of where to go for secure medical help.

For the time being he would take her to the nearest motel and make her rest. She had actually slept for most of the ship ride, yet upon his announcement that they were going to be leaving the ship she had looked up at him with dark, pronounced circles under her eyes. She was still a mess.

Amon could see the sunlight streaming in through the open cargo hold, it alit upon the boxes that seemed so dark and looming before, casting a warm glow. He would have much rather docked at night, but for this particular trip, it wasn't his choosing.

After about an hour the workers ceased to come back into the ship. Sunlight was still streaming through the large opening, and as much as he would have rather waited until night to sneak out, (knowing the ship would be docked for several days) the desire at the forefront of his mind was to get Robin out of this dank, musty hole.

He grabbed her hand, holding it firmly and securely in his as he pulled her slowly toward the light. He had no desire for her lethargic state to get them into trouble, not now. She seemed to start at the form grip he had on her hand. He still had his gloves on, but he was careful to avoid her knuckles, noticing as he looked down that the blood looked, fresh?

She stumbled slightly as they moved towards the entrance, but as soon as she stepped across the gangway, and into the sun she seemed to brighten a bit. Her eyes squinted at the harsh light; it must have hurt a bit, after being kept in the dark of the ships hold for so long.

They walked quickly away from the _Port de Barcelona_, as a sign so proudly boasted as they neared the street. Signs in Spanish directed them to various places, but his eyes glazed over them, searching only for transportation and lodging. They reached the street, and Amon stuck his hand out, feeling foolish as he tried to wave down a taxi.

After several minutes of frustration on Amon's part, as taxi's sped by him to other patrons on the street, seeming to think he and Robin invisible, one finally roared up beside them. It stopped quite abruptly, and he took a moment to eye the driver, before ushering Robin in ahead of them and then climbing in himself.

"Dondé señor?"

Amon narrowed his brows. Shit. He didn't know where any hotels were, nor was he very fluent in Spanish. The taxi driver, apparently somewhat annoyed by his taciturn passengers turned to face them.

"Señor y Señorita," he said with conviction, "a dondé va?"

He fumbled, "Necesitamos una…"

"Hotel cerca Las Ramblas." Robin finished for him smoothly. Amon looked to where she was sitting beside him, eyes wide.

"A, sí, hay una hotel, Le Meridien que cerca Las Ramblas." The cab driver responded, promptly putting the car into gear and speeding off.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were fluent in Spanish, or that you had knowledge of Barcelona?" He asked her, his voice sounding oddly amused.

Robin shrugged. "I'm fluent in Italian, the two languages are very similar. It was only a small deviation in my language tutoring for me to learn it. Besides, the city is very beautiful, I was interested in studying it back at the convent." With that she slumped into her seat, eyes resuming their glazed staring.

Amon shook his head. Even exhausted, and sick, Robin still never ceased to surprise him.

……

The hotel room was sparse, he had booked the cheapest one that had two beds and a laptop hub. Even so, it looked inviting. The beds were white, and the linen that covered them looked soft. _Thank god for Spanish hospitality._ Even so, he hoped they were enticing and comfortable enough to get her to properly rest.

"Robin, take off your shoes and go lie down. I want you to sleep, and then when you wake up I want you to eat." Her face scrunched at the mention of eating, but she dutifully made her way over to the bed closest to the window. He hadn't yet told her of his plan to drag her off to a doctor; he figured there was no reason to yet. He knew she had no fear of hospitals, having been with her, so many months ago when she had hurt her arm on a hunt, and had to have it bandaged. Still, there was no reason to place any extra worry on her slim shoulders. He watched as she slowly removed her shoes, placing them delicately beside the bed, as she crawled into it and pulled the sheets around her. Robin seen to, Amon went hunting for that laptop hub.

………

Whoo boy, I am so very sorry for not updating in…most of forever. So, here it is! Also, those of you who like this will be happy to know that chapter 3 is DONE. I'm just tweaking it, so it should be posted very soon.


	3. You Get What You Give

HERE IT IS, THE NEW CHAPTER. Fear the new chapter, for it is longer than the last, and it might just eat your soul! Er, or just read it. Yes, read it because I'm on a damn roll! HOT SHIT, READ IT.

……

_I'll be the water wings that save you if you start drowning  
In an open tab when your judgment's on the brink  
I'll be the phonograph that plays your favorite  
Albums back as your lying there drifting off to sleep...  
I'll be the platform shoes and undo what heredity's done to you...  
You won't have to strain to look into my eyes  
I'll be your winter coat buttoned and zipped straight to the throat  
With the collar up so you won't catch a cold_

_-Brand New Colony, The Postal Service_

"Robin, Robin, wake up." Someone was shaking her shoulder, gently but insistently. "Robin." She groaned, and rolled over and away from the touch.

"Amon," her voice was gravelly, and her head felt like it was in a gray fog. "I thought you said you were going to let me sleep?"

"I did, you've been asleep for sixteen hours."

"What?" her voice rose, shocked. She pushed herself up, turning in the bed so her back pressed against the stained grain of the headboard. She rubbed her eyes, once again feeling like she had been asleep for far less time than she actually had been. She blinked; Amon was holding something out to her.

"Here, drink this." Robin took it warily. It was a bottle, with what looked to be a white liquid in it. "It's the Spanish equivalent of Ensure, apparently."

"Ensure? Isn't that the drink used to strengthen the elderly?"

"Yes." Amon replied, looking down on her, sounding almost annoyed.

"Amon, I'm not the elderly."

"But you're sick like one." Amon quipped, still staring down at her imperiously. "Drink it, or you're not going to get better anytime soon. You need calories, lots of them."

Robin frowned, glancing at the bottle before taking a tentative sip. It tasted of vanilla, and besides being slightly heavy in texture, wasn't all that bad. Robin was initially surprised that her stomach hadn't rejected the drink—yet.

"After you finish that we're going out. I'm taking you out to a local clinic, and you're going to get checked out."

"A clinic, for medical help? Amon, I really don't think I'm—"

"Yes, you are. And you're going."

Robin sat back some, still sipping tentatively at the Ensure. She watched as Amon fidgeted with his laptop, shuffled papers about on the small table he was now seated at. "Amon, how did you find a clinic? I thought you didn't have much knowledge of Barcelona?"

"I don't. I e-mailed Nagira, who, with his never-ending fountain of resources was able to get us a few names."

"Oh." Robin said, sipping again, thinking back to Nagira. _Nagira, I miss him._ It was so kind of him to continue to help her, even if she was thousands of miles away. It had been a shock to discover that Nagira was Amon's brother. He had not even bothered to tell her when he had sent her off that fateful day below the well. It had irked her that he had not told her of his family earlier, although when she had finally found out, she had quickly forgiven him.

………………….

They entered the clinic quickly, Amon swiftly walked to the receptionist. He had directed Robin to a seat, and she slowly lowered herself down onto it, watching as he and the receptionist exchanged words, the receptionist finally handed him a few papers.

Robin looked around; the room was sparse, save for the seats that lined the walls and the one snack machine that hummed in the corner. There were a few errant magazines littered on a table to her right. She picked one up and flipped through it dazedly, not really looking at what her eyes found on the pages.

After a few short minutes Amon returned to her side and motioned for her to stand. Picking her body off of the piece of blue plastic she was surprised when Amon pulled her into him, his gloved hands squeezing her arms, his dark hair brushing against her cheek as he moved his face past hers. "Robin, do not divulge anything to the doctors, nothing." His breath tickled her ear. With a somewhat shaky breath Robin nodded, ever so slightly. Amon then pulled away from her as if he had given her a simple hug, leaving Robin with a small, yet still noticeable blush.

A nurse was waiting in the doorway leading into the clinic. She was short, and slightly stocky, not that Robin could really tell though, due to her loose, blue scrubs. She glanced down at a clipboard in her hand. "Robin, if you would please follow me." Robin looked back at Amon, more for reassurance than anything she figured. She wasn't afraid of hospitals, no far from it, but she was still hesitant to leave Amon in the reception area. "Oh it's alright; your brother may come with you." The nurse looked at Robin, her eyes and mouth smiling.

Brother…? Robin looked back at Amon questioningly, saw him raise his eyebrows slightly and nod his head.

"I'll accompany you." His voice floated past her as he began to walk towards the nurse. "Come on, Robin." Glancing back one last time, Robin followed.

……

The nurse directed Robin and Amon into a small, sterile room. There was a metallic counter on which various instruments were placed, one of which, Amon noted with a small lump in his throat, was a large needle. Robin had been examined briefly by a flustered, seemingly rushed doctor, and it was quickly determined that she was fairly dehydrated. Some intravenous fluids were in order. The doctor had written out a little slip with the prescribed IV on it, and whisked them away with the same nurse that had led them from the reception area.

Amon quickly tried to force the lump down his throat, eyeing the metal table warily. Averting his eyes Amon looked down at Robin, who the nurse was helping into a chair near the raised, sterile cot that was also in the room. He watched as the nurse pulled up the left sleeve of Robin's sweater. Thankfully the sleeve was loose and she wouldn't have to remove any clothing for the nurse to have access to her arm. The lump suddenly returned to his throat as the nurse asked Robin to flex her arm, and as he watched the nurse tie some opaque rubber tubing around the top of it. '_Now what would Robin say to him if she knew needles made him squeamish?' _Amon swallowed, ashamed that he could barely watch Robin receiving intravenous fluids.

Robin's eyes were still glazed, as they'd remained since she had woken up. The nurse was buzzing around her, hastily preparing the needle and IV bag, positioning the latter near Robin. The nurse turned her back carefully, and Amon watched with a steadily increasing heart rate as she prepared the needle. '_Damn, when did those things get so big?'_ He hazarded another glance down at Robin in her seat, careful to keep his countenance neutral. She was sitting with her ankles crossed, her bare feet swinging slightly, as they did not quite touch the ground. She was staring off to the side, her eyes fixed on some unknown point; she looked almost _bored_. Amon's eyes narrowed. How was it that she was always so calm about damn near _everything_?

Amon turned around quickly, and then immediately wished he hadn't. The nurse was before him, holding the needle in her right hand nonchalantly. He sucked in a breath quickly through his nose. The nurse's eyebrow quirked and a small smile curved upward. She lifted the needle higher, closer to Amon's face, the small smirk remained.

"Why, excuse me Mr. Amon." The nurse said airily, breezing around him.

'_Shit, shit, shit._ _Am I really being that transparent?'_ Amon _almost_ panicked, turning to look at Robin, who thankfully, was still staring off into space, completely oblivious.

"You've done very well Robin, now I'm going to put the IV in. It may hurt a bit, but I don't want you to be scared."

Robin looked at the nurse then, and blinked. "Why would I be scared?" The nurse seemed taken aback at this, looking up at Robin suddenly.

"Well dear, you're fifteen, correct?"

"Yes, I am."

"Most girls your age would be crying about now, at least from my experience."

"Oh."

The nurse looked at Robin for another second, then back at Amon, brows down. He merely shrugged, adjusting the collar of his coat. The nurse turned back to Robin, looking up at her one last time, finding her staring at a point above her head. Shrugging her own shoulders the nurse inserted the needle into her elbow. She moved the needle back and forth in her arm, frowning slightly as she failed to feel the needle pierce a vein. "Sorry dear, I can't seem to hit the vein, I'm going to have to try again." With that the nurse pulled the needle out, adjusted her aim, and shoved the needle back in. A warm trickle of blood immediately began to flow from the hole in Robin's elbow.

"There we are, all set. Now let me just get something to clean this up with." Robin nodded, and the nurse turned to leave the room, casting an amused glance back at Amon.

He was going to shit a brick. He fidgeted back and forth in the center of the room, trying to stem the nausea that was threatening to overtake him. Of course, Robin then chose that particular moment to turn her gaze from the blood flowing slowly from her arm, to him. Upon seeing his flustered face Robin frowned.

"Amon, are you alright? You're sweating." She asked softly.

"Yes, yes, fine. It's rather warm in here." He replied lamely, hitting himself mentally all the while. Robin gave him one more questioning glance before turning her gaze elsewhere.

The needle safely inside Robin's arm, Amon's blood pressure slowly began to return to normal. He glanced around, noticing several chairs, one of which he choose to sit in.

"You should feel better after you've received fluids." Amon said sighing, watching Robin swing her still locked ankles.

"Mmhmm."

………..

Amon had left to get her some food from one of the vending machines in the reception area. She still didn't really feel like eating, but thankfully the thought of it didn't turn her stomach anymore. Robin watched as the nurse came in to check the IV bag.

"Where's your brother?" She asked, pressing her fingers to Robin's wrist.

"He went to get some food." Robin replied, staring at the wall, instead of the nurses probing fingers.

"What a nice brother you have, taking care of you like this. He must really love you."

Robin started, her eyes widening. "Er, yes, he's a good brother." She turned her head quickly, desperately trying to hide the blush that had assailed her cheeks.

"I can see that you two might not get along all the time, but I've seen his type before. Doesn't want to reveal any emotion, just likes to stay inside himself." Robin's blush was deepening, and she really wished that the nurse would just leave her in peace. All this talk of Amon was getting increasingly uncomfortable. "Oh but they show emotion in different ways." She turned to Robin then, a warm smile on her face. "I'm sure he cares about you a lot." Robin cleared her throat, still wishing the nurse would just leave. "You know dear, he's not so high and mighty as he might seem. To tell you the truth, I think he's a bit squeamish." Robin raised her eyebrows, blinking. The nurse winked at her and left the room.

Robin looked down. Is that what they looked like to other people? Amon didn't love her, he was just worried because of her failing health. She knew she couldn't be a burden while on the run. He was just making sure that she was able to move properly. Yes, that was it.

……..

Quick breath, pulse thudding, and green, green water. Limbs hanging limply, floating like dead, ugly, unused things, hair drifting up, pulling the head up, up. Those eyes, God those eyes, open and blank, void of all color, all emotion, all life. They were dead, but they were _alive_ and it was horrible.

They were dead and yet they were screaming, moaning and wailing. A voice in her head, only her head. Put into their green tombs, lungs filling with the green, formaldehyde like substance. Their cries stopped, frozen, only to unleash themselves inside her skull. All their dying screams, resonating and bouncing around her head with a pain so sharp it burned.

_So much pain._

_So much death._

_No more._

The water boiled.

Robin opened her wet eyes, widely. Her hands were shaking, a whimper escaping her as she tried to anchor herself to something solid in the room. Looking around all she could see was the raised cot, and the silver table, littered with gleaming instruments. Too much metal. Not good.

Blankly, Robin realized there were hands on her shoulders, small, unfamiliar, but firm nonetheless.

"Robin, Robin. Are you alright dear?" Robin's mouth worked, but no sound emerged, her vocal chords working uselessly. "Oh my, now stop crying, you're going to lose all the fluid we just put into you." The nurse handed her a tissue, and she thankfully took it and dried her eyes. "You just sit there and rest. I'll go get your brother." She nodded, just then realizing that Amon's dark presence wasn't in the room, thankful that the nurse had realized her need.

Robin watched the nurse leave, the door shutting behind her with a soft clink. She glanced down at her arm, the IV was gone, a small purple band-aid with a flower on it in its place.

"_Robin, Robin. Relax, sit down little one."_

_Her eyes were burning, hands shaking, Nagira's hands on her shoulders._

"_A-Amon, he's dead."_

_The hand moved around to her back, pulling her into an unfamiliar hug, the soft white fuzz of his ridiculous coat brushing up against her face. "No, no he's not. I know my crazy brother. He doesn't die so easily, trust me. He's lived through a lot." Her sniffling continued for a while, Robin desperately trying to stop, burning with shame. "What happened Robin?"_

"_I don't know," her voice was tremulous, and she didn't quite understand why. "One moment I was reaching for my coffee mug, the next I was back at Raven's flat, back with Amon, the day he—"_

_Nagira's hands tightened around her even more, causing the breath to be sucked from her slightly. "He's not dead." Just as Robin was beginning to think that her circulation was being cut off Nagira pulled away. "You probably had a flashback Robin. It's not uncommon for people who have undergone something traumatizing to have them."_

"_But it's never happened before." Robin then turned her eyes down. "Well, it has, when I was staying at Raven's flat, after the attack on my apartment. I would see things. I saw Amon. I saw Amon, and it was frightening." She paused again, taking a quick breath. " But never anything of this magnitude!"_

_Nagira paused for a moment, his eyes distant. "And that's why you have to be strong, Robin."_

So it was happening again, and apparently it was still getting worse.

………

Amon walked down the almost deserted hallway, passing no one, for which he was grateful. He much preferred to avoid contact with the people in the clinic, the fewer questions that were asked, the quicker he could get Robin and leave. She had started looking much better after only a short time with the IV, which had relieved Amon more than he though it would. He had hated to see her walking around like death warmed-over. He had suggested food, and hearing no rejection from his ward, (which was another relief) went to procure her some.

While on the ship Amon had spent a lot of time reflecting on his time with Robin. It had only been two short months since the collapse of factory. Two months of dragging Robin from place to place in a panicked, frightened frenzy. Amon thought perhaps he had been a bit hasty with all of it. They had never actually _seen_ a hunter, never mind been confronted by one. Amon had kept his ears, and his resources open, and at any hint of trouble he had whisked them away. This probably wasn't the smartest of plans, looking around at his surroundings. _Look where it landed you._

As usual Amon had shelved mental complications, focusing only on their relative physical safety. Relative was the key word. Looking at Robin these past few weeks had made him seriously reconsider his concept of well being.

As Amon approached the door that would lead to his little charge he saw it open, abruptly increasing his stride, holding the little bag of snacks he had bought for Robin from the vending machine in the front lobby. The nurse that had been treating her emerged, clicking the door shut quickly behind her. _Oh good lord no._ The nurse had been nice enough, treating Robin quite effectively, yet Amon had a sneaking suspicion that she was out to get him. Either that or she had some silly crush on him. She had _immensely_ enjoyed making him squirm when Robin was receiving her IV, and now she probably had some other form of humiliation in store for him.

Walking up to her briskly Amon reached for the door handle, finding it abruptly stopped as it neared the blue of her uniform, rather than the metal of the handle. Amon glanced up curiously; the glint in her eye was gone, replaced only with a cold seriousness. The Hunter gears turning in his mind. '_Was she a spy, had she found out something, had Robin told her something?'_

"Mr. Amon, you came here asking for help, and as is our policy we provided it to you without asking more than the necessary questions." She paused, her brows knitting together firmly, and her small, strong arms folded in front of her. "However, certain occurrences have led me to believe that you are not telling me something that is pertinent to your sister's health." She sighed, suddenly looking weary and haggard, a million cases similar to theirs flashed across her eyes briefly. "Amon, given the nature of my work I do not trust easily, nor do I take the word of patients as the entire truth, but in this case I need to know a few things."

Amon stood firm, spreading his stance a bit. "What sort of things?"

"You and your _sister_," the last word said with a suspicious conviction, "aren't merely here to enjoy the sights and sounds of Barcelona, are you?"

"How can you be so certain? My sister and I are merely taking a vacation." Amon's jaw was set, even if he didn't really sound too convincing, even to himself.

"Vacationers don't come to the health clinic dragging a half-starved, dehydrated girl, with mental complications behind them."

"Mental complications?" Amon's heart rose in his chest, constricting.

"She has not told you?" Upon Amon's look of bewilderment, the nurse put one hand to her forehead, sighing heavily for the second time. "Men can be so clueless sometimes—Amon, Robin just had a flashback, a particularly violent one."

"She had a—"

"A flashback, a recurrence of a trauma that the victim sustains while in a conscious state. Robin was thrashing, but thankfully I was able to take the IV out before she caused any harm to herself."

Amon's teeth ground together. "I know what a flashback is, and to my knowledge, Robin has never experienced one." A victim? Robin was not a victim, how dare this woman degrade her!

"Are you so sure? Robin was calmer than most patients I've seen who experience those types of flashbacks, and even though Robin seems like a very reserved girl, her reaction told me that this wasn't a foreign occurrence to her." The nurse drew a long breath into her nose. She had obviously seen many of these types of cases, and his reactions weren't surprising to her. "Amon, I know that you're not going to tell me anything of your life, but please tell me this. Has Robin been through any serious trauma as of late?"

_Trauma._

Shoving her small form down into the unused well, hearing the Hunters approaching fast, watching as the tears that had been gathering in her eyes spilled. From the bottom floor of Raven's flat, with his ear to the ground, his senses keened, listening to Robin quietly sob, calling out his name, thinking him dead. Hearing Robin's true nature, her omission to Father Juliano that she would rather be destroyed than live as Sin. Watching Robin's look of pain as she heard the witches screaming and crying inside her head. The factory falling down around her, shards of everything slicing at her skin. _Watching her flinch from the sight of his gun._

"Yes, she has." Amon answered, suddenly assailed by a sudden gust of guilt, gripping him, and shaking him. _Asshole._

"As I suspected, Robin is most likely suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I can't diagnose her officially, of course, but I've seen many such cases, and Robin's is all too familiar." The nurse paused for a moment, trying to gauge his reaction. Seeing no change in his features, she continued. "It can manifest at any time after the initial trauma, and can last for a very long time if left untreated."

Amon frowned further, if that was even possible at this point. "I can't—"

"I know. As much as I'd like to have her stay here, be properly diagnosed, and receive some psychological help, I understand that you are in a rush to leave." The nurse looked up at him then, her eyes sad. "Amon, her brother or not, do you care for her?"

Amon's mouth replied before he had even really a proper chance to think through the weighted question. "I do."

"Then I entrust her to you, as her strength. She seems like such a nice girl, do take care of her." With that her eyes suddenly regained their mirth, her hands unfolding as she stepped away from the door. "I'll get you some literature, Robin's waiting for you. I'll return shortly. The nurse left, striding down the deserted hallway.

Amon blinked, staring after her for a few moments before again reaching for the door handle. He opened the heavy door, revealing Robin perched in her chair, fidgeting with her sweater.

"Amon." Her eyes brightened.

_Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder._

"How are you feeling?"

"A lot better, I'm actually hungry, for once." She said eyeing the bag of snacks in his hand.

"Good, I brought you something. It's small, but we'll eat more once we get back to the hotel." He handed her the bag of snacks, watching as her small hands delicately tore open the bag, reached in and popped a piece of food into her mouth, chewing quietly.

"Thank you, Amon. I do feel much better now, and I apologize for being such a burden before."

Amon's throat was dry.

_Do take care of her._

"No, there's no need to apologize."

………

DEATH, DEATH AND MORE DEATH. Agggh. Life is eating my brain, slowly but surely. Sorry I didn't have this up sooner like I promised, but I spent the past weekend in New Jersey. (Ugh.) Now I shall sleep for a large amount of time.

Kbye.


End file.
